Liars
by EHWIES
Summary: Andromeda's had a lot of practice at making them believe she belongs. xx For Maddie and Misty.


**Liars**

Fabian Prewett is a bloody arrogant bastard, but that doesn't stop Andromeda's knees from giving out every time she sees him.

She encounters him for moments at a time throughout the night. "Andromeda Black!" he'll exclaim at the sight of her from a few meters away, laughing like he's delighted with himself for spotting her, and she'll say something caustic to scare him off before he sees through the tough exterior.

Andromeda could tell you right down to the day when he first started to captivate her: the third week of fifth year Potions, when Slughorn decided it would be a good idea to pair them together for Felix Felicis. She'd had it up to _here_ with his cockiness in minutes, but there was something about his self-assured advances…

He thinks she's just a dumb Slytherin girl he could toy with, she _knows_ that—she'll even admit that she plays the part well—but it makes her want to validate herself to him… makes her want him to see her how she _is_ and not how she always pretends to be. And that scares the hell out of her, to be frank.

God help her. She throws herself in a seat in a back corner of the room after their latest encounter, and it's only then that she notices and appreciates the décor of the party. This is the culmination of six months of planning—ice sculptures, a six-tiered cake, and a live string quartet—and she knows it's superficial, but she can't help but feel at least a little mesmerized.

Andromeda and her mother may not always get along, but she has to admit: Druella throws a hell of a party, and tonight, Bella's wedding is no exception.

"Look at them," sighs the girl beside her. Andromeda glances over—it's Priscilla Parkinson, Cissy's friend, gazing at the bride and groom with her chin in her hand and a dreamy look in her eyes. "Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange, getting _married_. Who would have thought?"

She's surprised that Priscilla is talking to her at all—Cissy must have put her up to it, she assumes, else she'd probably do her best to have nothing to do with Andromeda. All of the girls here would. "They were always at each other's throats at Hogwarts," she says, if only to fill in the awkward silence that follows Priscilla's words.

"At least until seventh year. Remember what a shock it was to both of them when they revealed their betrothal? I thought they'd never learn to like each other! Yet here they are, lovers at last..."

Dear Lord, Priscilla wants to have a proper _conversation_ with her now? It's been a while since she's talked to the likes of Priscilla, but she's the daughter of a Black and a Rosier—it's hard to forget how. "They look wonderful together. Bellatrix really is a beautiful dancer," says Andromeda; even as she speaks, her voice takes on the awestruck tone and slightly higher pitch of her Slytherin self.

Priscilla nods daintily and takes a sip of champagne, leaving behind a perfect stain of coral-pink lipstick on the glass. "Absolutely. I only wish I could be that graceful," she agrees. "Robert insists that his feet are still swollen from all the times I trod on them during our ballroom dancing lessons together!"

A lightheaded giggle falls naturally from Andromeda's lips, and she says, "How long have you two been together? Six months?"

"Seven, as of this coming Wednesday," Priscilla confirms. "But now is not the time for me to flaunt my own blossoming relationship—goodness, no, not at Bellatrix's wedding! _Do_ give her my most sincere congratulations," she insists, reaching out and squeezing Andromeda's hand with a smile.

Andromeda's grateful, if only because she has enough boy troubles of her own that she doesn't want to hear about Priscilla's _blossoming relationship_. "Of course," she answers, returning the smile and wondering all the while why the hell Priscilla couldn't be bothered to tell Bella herself. "If you'll excuse me… I really ought to mingle with more of the guests on her behalf."

As Andromeda rises, Priscilla nods her understanding, and they exchange quick goodbyes. It's all very cordial, but Andromeda can tell that she's latching onto the excuse to get away from her. It's a hard life, being a Slytherin—being a Black.

There are only so many people you can invite to a pureblood wedding: the potential roster gets shorter and shorter as guests of noble blood marry and consort with Mudbloods. There are a decent number of guests, yes, but not nearly enough to fill the room to capacity—it's no wonder that it takes Andromeda only minutes to find Cissy in the crowd. She's sitting with Raleigh Greengrass and Lucius Malfoy, but it's obvious that she's paying her boyfriend the bulk of the attention. Carefully avoiding eye contact with any of the three, Andromeda brushes her hand against Cissy's elbow before drifting a short ways away from the table, and it's not long before Cissy catches up with her. "What is it, Andy? Is everything all right?" she says frantically, leaning in and lowering her voice.

"I hate your mates," says Andromeda, relieved to drop her façade for a moment.

Cissy wrinkles her nose into a frown—she's been doing more and more of that lately, Andromeda has noticed, as she's drifted further and further into their parents' world. "You're not much better, wasting all your time hanging around with the likes of Dorcas Meadowes and Theodore Tonks," she retorts.

"What's wrong with Dorcas or Ted? They're both perfectly respectable Slytherins," Andromeda defends, even though she knows _exactly_ what's wrong with them, even though she knows it's futile.

"Codswallop. Meadowes is a bloody tomboy, and Tonks is a _Mudblood_, Andy—you know better than that," Cissy scolds, narrowing her eyes. "Maybe he is popular with some of the Slytherin girls, but you're a Black—you ought to be above his charms."

She counters, "By your logic, then, oughtn't we both be above susceptible girls like Priscilla Parkinson, then?"

Cissy shakes her head, as if she's given up all hope on her. "That's not how I meant it, and you know it. What did Priscilla ever do to you?"

Of course Cissy doesn't understand—Andromeda should have known better than to go to her in the first place. She's the black sheep here, not Priscilla: _she's_ the one who doesn't fit in because she's mates with a Mudblood and doesn't like to put on airs. "Nothing. Forget it."

Bemused, Cissy lets out a sigh and tugs Andromeda's arm. "Well, what else do you want from me? Come on, let's find you somebody to dance with or something…"

And Andromeda complies, because she's not _really_ the black sheep of the Blacks—she isn't so arrogant as to assume that the title belongs to her instead of Sirius. She's spent the last sixteen years putting on appearances for all her acquaintances and begging the Sorting Hat to put her in Slytherin when it told her point-blank that she didn't belong—maybe she fooled it, maybe she's fooling _everyone_, but she can't fool herself.

And of _course_ the first recognizable man they meet is none other than Fabian Prewett. "If it isn't the sisters of the bride!" he exclaims jovially, seizing both their hands. "Andromeda and Narcissa Black! If I didn't know any better, Andromeda, I'd say you were following me—Malfoy treating you well, Narcissa?"

Cissy blushes, and Andromeda does, too, and she can't help but hate herself just a little for it. "Fabian Prewett," she says, and _oh dear God he's looking at me and_—

"Glad to see that you've gotten away from your blood traitor brother long enough to stop in," Cissy teases, giggling.

Fabian grins, kneeling to kiss Cissy's hand. "What, and miss the opportunity to get in touch with my purer side? Not a chance. Care to dance, Narcissa?"

"Not on your life," says Cissy, but she doesn't fight all that hard against him as he leads her onto the dance floor and pulls her against his chest.

She hates him, she honestly does—but then, why else would he entice her like this? Andromeda can stomach hatred and buried resentment, but if there's one thing that makes her squirm (fantasize), it's being seen as _just another dippy Slytherin girl_—through an outsider's eyes, _Fabian's_ eyes, that's exactly who she is.

It doesn't always pay to pretend.

(Maybe she does fall for Ted in the end, but there's always a little piece of her taunting her for taking the easy way out. It's a hell of a lot less painful to quietly elope and never see her family again.)

(Maybe Bella's wedding was superficial, but Andromeda isn't exactly a woman of substance. Just look at why she never joins the Order of the Phoenix.)

--

**A/N:** Loosely based on a true story. This one goes out to StoryGirl02 and Misty McMist Monster--this is to repay you guys for the J/D fics, haha. Thanks to both of you for, respectively, being a much better friend than Andy ever had and putting Fabian to shame. :) Thanks very much to Wendy Brune for the beta! This one was a pain in the you-know-what to write and clean up, I'm telling you...


End file.
